


Return

by ZoeSong



Series: Always a Stark [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Battle of the Goldroad, Danger, Dany at Winterfell, Dragons, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Gen, Return to Winterfell, Reunions, Sansa reacts to Dany, Tension, War, Winterfell, army of the dead - Freeform, season 8 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 04:26:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18461462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/pseuds/ZoeSong
Summary: Sansa and Arya prepare for Jon’s return to Winterfell with Queen Daenerys. Certain recent news has caused them a great deal of apprehension.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This can be considered kind of a sequel to some of my other “Always a Stark” stories and a merging with the events of the show at the end of Season 7. It is also a Season 8 AU (written before the premiere of S8). Readers may find it helpful to have read “Scars” to know my version of the relationship between Sansa and Arya. See other notes at the end.

~~

[](https://imgur.com/qiDGbe5)

~~

 

“What are you doing?” 

Arya had come upon Sansa standing in the doorway of her old room, as if working up the courage to enter. Her sister turned to her, startled, then glanced away as if ashamed of her fear.

“Just trying to decide how the furniture will go.”

“I thought you were putting the rest of the guests in the other wing?”

“Yes, all but the queen. She will have my room – Mother and Father’s room. I’ll stay in here while she’s with us.”

“But you hate this room.” In the months since Arya had first returned, she had not seen Sansa go near the room that had been the scene of so much trauma for her.

“I have to get over it some time.”

“Maybe, but you’ve enough to worry about right now without that. I’ll take this room. You take mine.”

Sansa released a soft breath, glancing at Arya gratefully. “Really? I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not – I’m offering.” Arya smiled up at her warmly. “Actually, I’ve a better idea. We could share. Then you won’t have to move anything except your clothes.”

This elicited a rare smile from Sansa, the first that Arya had seen from her sister since before they’d received the raven announcing that the Targaryen queen would be coming here with Jon. “That would be lovely – if you’re sure.”

“Yeah, it’ll be like old times. I can press my cold feet against you, and you can tell me stories to help me fall asleep.”

Sansa actually laughed at that, her eyes softening. “Thank you. Although I doubt that I have any stories that would help you sleep.” 

“Fine, then I’ll tell the stories.” Arya smiled back at her sister, happy of this new evidence that they were a pack again.

And so, visibly relieved, Sansa closed the old bedroom door, locking it firmly with the large set of keys at her waist. 

 

~~

 

Several days later Arya and Sansa stood on the ramparts watching for Jon and the queen. Something rustled in the distance, and Arya gave a great gasp of excitement. “There they are!” 

The girls watched as the tiny figures in the distance grew larger and larger, their wings flapping slowly and smoothly. As they came closer, they seemed impossibly big and magnificent, and for a moment, Sansa’s unease at the approach of this new queen was overcome with her awe of the beauty and grace of her dragons. For that moment, she felt a little spark of the childlike wonder she’d had at the old stories and their flowery illustrations in her books.

The first dragon, noticeably larger than the other, descended, circled around the edge of the keep, and the girls could see Jon sitting behind a pale-haired woman on the dragon’s back. He spotted the sisters, waved, and Arya waved back at him wildly. Sansa raised her hand slowly, but the dragon had already turned and headed upwards again.

They both watched in awe as the huge black dragon soared high above them, then came back around in its descent and made its landing outside the walls. The second dragon swooped by it, then climbed and disappeared beyond the trees. 

They could see Jon dismount and step on a scaly foothold on the dragon’s back. 

“Come on!” Arya hurried off, clearly excited – Sansa suspected it was as much at the prospect of seeing the dragons up close as seeing Jon again. Sansa shivered as her misgivings threatened to overwhelm her once more.

“Coming.” Sansa lingered a moment longer, watching as her brother offered his arm to the elegant figure in gray and white furs. Winterfell colors. What did that mean? Was she honoring the Starks?

Sansa continued to watch as the couple dismounted, noting the caring way that Jon’s arm remained around the queen as they turned to watch the dragon fly away. She felt certain that they were a couple. 

As they began walking toward the castle gate, Sansa whirled and hurried after Arya.

A few minutes later, she was in the courtyard watching through the gates as Jon and Daenerys approached. Sansa took a breath and folded her hands at her waist to steady them and to try to calm her nervous stomach. She’d determined that she would be gracious, welcoming, and follow Jon’s cues. This Targaryen queen could be a staunch ally, or she could destroy them all.

Arya was standing beside her with a studied calm that Sansa knew belied her own unease at the arrival of the Targaryen queen. But she too trusted Jon. That Jon and the queen appeared to be romantically involved added a new layer to the many concerns Sansa had, but she tried to think of it as something that could only help matters.

The two new arrivals strode through the gate and entered the courtyard. As soon as Jon saw Arya he gave a wide grin, and suddenly Arya came to life. She bounded up to Jon, completely ignoring the queen. 

“Jon!” Arya launched herself into his arms as if the many years of separation had never passed. Sansa could see that Jon’s grin had told her sister all she needed to know to believe that he was still the big brother she remembered so fondly.

“Arya, ‘tis good to see you.” Jon returned her embrace warmly and fiercely, and the two clung to each other just as he and Sansa had done so many months before when they’d been reunited.

Sansa watched the scene with tears rising in her eyes. Arya was usually very guarded with her affections, so for her to express such feeling – especially before this foreign queen – was a testament to her deep attachment to Jon.

Then, a slight flutter of the queen’s fur sleeve caught Sansa’s attention. She glanced at Daenerys and saw that she was smiling indulgently at Jon and Arya. This display of warmth melted Sansa’s heart a little. She’d expected that this queen would be as hard-hearted as Cersei had been. Suddenly, the woman turned to her, as if she’d heard her thoughts, and smiled. Sansa dipped her head in deference to her, and smiled back.

Jon and Arya broke apart, still clutching each other’s arms in a firm grip, as two men might do. Then Jon caught Sansa’s eye. He smiled, gave Arya’s arm a final affectionate squeeze, then strode forward to greet Sansa. 

He gave her a warm embrace, murmured, “Good to see you so well.” 

“And you,” she returned. 

He looked in her eyes as they broke from the embrace. “I have brought our queen.”

Sansa nodded somberly and thought, _Your queen – whether she is mine is yet to be seen_.

Jon turned, stretching his arm out to Daenerys, then glanced back and forth between his sisters and the queen. “I present Queen Daenerys Targaryen. Your Grace, my sisters, Lady Sansa Stark, and Lady Arya Stark.”

Sansa dipped her head and curtseyed in courtly style. “Your Grace. Welcome to Winterfell.”

Arya stood to the other side of Jon, having composed herself. She gave a man’s formal bow and murmured, “Your Grace.” It was clear that the title did not come easily to her.

Sansa addressed the queen. “Please, won’t you come through to the hall where it is warm? Such a ride must have chilled you to the bone.”

Daenerys murmured thanks, and stepped forward, walking beside Sansa. The queen was scarcely taller than Arya, and yet her bearing made her seem taller than her actual height.

Sansa led them to the largest of the many fireplaces, where she’d arranged for some mulled wine, bread, and salt. As she turned to offer it to the queen, Jon took her arm. 

“Sansa, forgive me, but might the formalities wait? We came from White Harbor as soon as we’d heard the news about the Wall. We’d like to go and speak to Bran right away.”

The tightness in Sansa’s stomach, which had relaxed somewhat in the courtyard, now intensified. She saw Arya shoot the queen a fierce look, and Jon looked perplexed. But Sansa murmured, “As you say.” She looked helplessly at the wine and bread. Guest right didn’t seem to mean as much as it used to. Perhaps the queen did not care for such customs – she might wish to reserve the right to destroy them if they displeased her. 

But the queen must have read Sansa’s dismay, for she said gently, “Jon, of course we should break bread – and I would greatly enjoy a cup of wine.” Daenerys’ hand brushed Jon’s arm casually, as if she were well used to such gestures.

Sansa’s stomach returned to its normal place as she gestured to the chairs, and made to pour the wine and cut the bread. She served a bit to each of them, then, perched herself in the furthest chair, and nibbled and sipped a bit herself. Arya ate and drank hers in sullen silence, her eyes darting back and forth between the queen and Jon. 

It was the queen who broke the silence. “Might you be so kind as to explain how it is that your brother was able to see what happened at the Wall?”

Nodding, Sansa began. “Bran is a greenseer. He has visions...”

“So there’s a chance that it’s not true?” Jon’s words were hopeful, but his voice sounded like doom. 

Arya spoke firmly. “It wasn’t a vision. He was flying with the ravens. He saw it as it happened.”

Sansa hurried to explain. “Bran’s visions are true. He has seen many things from our past that no one else could have known. And he’s also–”

“A warg…a skinchanger. He can become one with a raven.” Arya nodded emphatically as she spoke. “He can watch, see what’s happening. He’s the one who told us you were coming just now.”

Sansa was watching the queen closely. She could not tell if the woman believed them or not. “Your Grace, I know it sounds impossible.”

“I know it is not impossible. I have had visions myself.” The queen was matter-of-fact.

Sansa was both surprised and relieved. Arya looked at Daenerys with interest.

“And he’s seen nothing more since you sent the raven to White Harbor?” Jon said impatiently.

“Only that the army continues to pour through the gap. The last time he was able to see, they were still near Eastwatch.”

“Sansa, have you sent a raven there? I mean, a message?”

“Yes, but there was no reply. The raven returned with the message still attached. We take that to mean that there is no one left there to receive it or answer it. I’m sorry, Jon. I know your friends were there.”

Daenerys suddenly spoke fiercely, “We should go there at once to find out for ourselves.”

Jon laid his hand on the queen’s arm. “No, not yet. We must speak to my brother and try to learn exactly where they are. We must plan for this – otherwise you could lose another of your children.”

Dany took in a breath, released it, slightly calmed, and nodded. “Very well, you may be right.”

Jon turned back to his sisters. “What has been done so far?”

Sansa answered, “As you know, I have called the banners – Lord Glover and Lord Manderly have been organizing them, and Lord Royce has called for more knights of the Vale. All of the most northern houses have been bringing their stores here for safekeeping, as well as some of the more southern ones. Now they are coming to shelter here. We are preparing for the worst.”

Jon nodded solemnly. “Well done. But please let us see what else Bran knows so we can make further preparations.”

“Very well then.” Sansa rose and waited while the others joined her, then nodded to Arya to signal her to walk ahead with the queen as they’d arranged earlier. Arya nodded back, then led the way to the stairs of the tower where Bran chose to stay. He loved to be at the highest point in the keep, much to the dismay of his body servant who had to carry his meals to him – or him to his meals – each day. 

 

~~

  


As they climbed the long spiral staircase, Sansa heard Arya telling Queen Daenerys about how the walls of Winterfell remained so warm.

Sansa took the opportunity and hung back, allowing Arya to lead the queen a distance ahead of them. “Jon,” she said softly. 

Jon turned to find her several steps below him.

Sansa took a breath and looked up at him, speaking in a low voice. “Sam has news for you. He and Bran.”

“What is it?” He took a couple of steps down, closer to her.

“He would not say. He felt you should be told alone, in private, as perhaps you would want to reflect on it yourself. He says it’s very important.”

“What can be more important than this news of the Wall?”

“I don’t know – only that it’s…it’s about your past.”

Jon’s jaw dropped. “My past? But he knows everything I did in the Night’s Watch–” He suddenly looked stricken. “You mean about my mother?”

“It must be – Bran had a vision, and Sam had learned something in Old Town – they could confirm it together. That’s all he would say.”

“I see. Well, we’d better go up and see him.”

“Jon, Sam was adamant that the news should be private.”

Jon shook his head. “I have no secrets from anyone – not from you, not from Daenerys.”

Sansa’s stomach tightened. “Jon, I don’t know what you may learn, so please, listen to Sam’s advice. You have the right to talk privately. What you do after that is your choice, but give yourself that chance.”

“You don’t trust her, do you?”

Sansa looked down at her feet, drawing in a strengthening breath, then raised her head and looked him in the eye. “I don’t _know_ her. And I’ve trusted so many people who have turned out to be evil and cruel.”

“She’s _not_ –” 

“Jon.” Sansa leaned in closer to whisper. “Sam received word from his mother – about how his father and brother died in the battle on the Goldroad.”

Glancing away, Jon brooded for a moment. “House Tarly must have supported the Lannisters." He turned back to Sansa. "But that was war. It's sad, but they were her enemy.”

“They were captured. And when they refused to bend the knee, she burned them — _alive_.”

Jon’s eyes grew dark.

“You didn’t know?”

He shook his head. 

“So that's not why you bent the knee? Because she would have burned you?”

“No, no. I told her I couldn’t. That I was beholden to the North. It wasn’t until after she’d come to our rescue beyond Eastwatch. She saved us, all of us. She proved her good intentions then, and I felt compelled to call her my queen.”

Sansa leaned against the wall of the staircase for strength, trying to balance all the things she had heard.

Jon took another step down to her. “Sansa, I know what happened to Sam's family was awful, but Daenerys must have thought it was just. No different than when Father executed a deserter of the Night's Watch. I trust her. She won’t harm us — she came to defend us.”

“I _want_ to trust her, but it’s hard for me.”

“I know. But I _do_ trust her. I believe in her goodness. Please, give her a chance.”

“I am doing that. Haven’t I been cordial to her? I’ve broken bread with her, given her my room, my servants.”

“Of course, I see that. I thank you.”

“Then please, at least do this one thing for me – listen to Sam’s news privately. Just to be sure.”

Jon nodded. “Alright, I will.” He squeezed her arm. “Don’t worry. It will be fine.”

Sansa put her hand over his and squeezed back. “I pray it will.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, and Sansa knew that her fears of the queen were nothing considering that the real battle was with the White Walkers and that Jon would be thinking of that. With a mutual nod, they headed back up the staircase to see Bran.

 

~~

 

At Bran’s door, Arya found herself running out of small talk about Winterfell. She’d rehearsed with Sansa a number of things she could talk about with the Queen, as Sansa wanted to warn Jon privately about the news Sam and Bran had for him. It would have been better if it were Sansa making the small talk, as she was much better at such things, but Sansa was worried that Jon would not take it as seriously if Arya were to try to convince him to speak to Sam and Bran alone.

Now, on the brink of entering Bran’s room, Daenerys turned and noticed that Jon and Sansa were not right behind them on the staircase. “Where are your brother and sister?”

Arya responded quickly, “Oh, Sansa – she’s so slow on the stairs – she _will_ insist on wearing those long, cumbersome gowns. Shorter ones are so much more practical, are they not?” Arya glanced appreciatively at the queen’s rich fur robes which were only slightly longer than her own leathers.

The queen seemed surprised at Arya’s familiarity, but nodded approvingly. “Indeed.”

Voices came from the stairwell, and Jon and Sansa came around the last curve. Jon had offered Sansa his arm on the last few steps as he said, “Well, again, I can see that you’ve done very well here. I’m sure you’ve prepared every bit as well as I would have had I been here.”

“Thank you, Jon.” Sansa glanced at the queen, and Arya could see that her sister’s fears had not been entirely allayed. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Your Grace.”

Daenerys gave her a gracious nod, then stepped back from the door to allow Sansa and Arya to announce her.

Arya started forward, then turned as Sansa laid a hand on her shoulder. 

Sansa spoke quietly to Jon and the queen. “Your Grace, my brother Bran cannot rise from his chair, and he is…well, strange. He means no disrespect, but he seems to live in another world in his mind, so he does not speak like other people. Pray take no offense.”

Daenerys nodded, “I understand.”

Reassured, Sansa motioned to Arya, and they entered the room. Arya noted that the queen hung back a little to allow Jon his reunion with Bran. 

Bran seemed to be staring out the window when they came in. His eyes were glazed as they so often were when he was having visions or flying with the ravens. 

Across the room, Sam rose from his chair at the table where he’d been perusing a book. He nodded cordially to Sansa and Arya, then, glancing warily at the queen, dipped his head slightly to her and said deferentially, “Your Grace.” 

Jon, seeing that Bran did not acknowledge him, went over to Sam and embraced him. “I am so glad you are here. Sansa has told me all that you do for him and I am grateful.” He said something else to Sam in a low voice that Arya could not make out.

Sam nodded, his eyes darkening. “It is nothing, I am glad to do what I can. It’s good to have you back, my friend.”

Jon smiled warmly at him, then turned back towards the women. “Queen Daenerys, this is my brother in black, Samwell Tarly.”

Daenerys’ eyes flickered briefly in recognition of the name, but she only nodded in acknowledgement of Jon’s friend.

Sam glanced over to Bran. “Your brother has been like this for some time. Sometimes it is hard to wake him.”

Arya went over to Bran and patted his hand. “Bran, Jon is here.”

Bran did not look away from the window, but seemed to nod slightly. 

Jon stepped over to his brother and looked down at him, laying his hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Bran.”

Bran’s eyes cleared, but he continued gazing out the window. Then he answered solemnly, “I saw you coming on the dragon.”

Jon smiled, relieved. “Yes, we flew here. Amazing, isn’t it?” 

There was a slight flicker of recognition in Bran’s eyes, but he said nothing.

Jon continued, “Bran, here is Queen Daenerys Targaryen. She has brought her dragons and her army.”

Bran made a nearly imperceptible nod, but continued staring out the window. Jon was just about to ask him about the Wall when Bran blinked a couple of times, then turned to look at Daenerys. “You smothered your husband with a cushion.”

The queen gave a little gasp. 

“Bran!” Sansa’s voice was anxious. “’Tis not the time to share such a vision – and you must have misunderstood what you saw.”

But the queen recovered her composure and said quietly, “No, what he saw was true. Drogo was dying miserably and I could not bear to see him suffer. I gave him mercy.”

Bran nodded. “Mercy. The Night King has no mercy.” He turned back towards his brother. “Hello, Jon.”

Jon started at how strangely Bran was behaving, recovered, and gave Bran a gentle hug. When he pulled away he asked, “Bran, we’ve come to ask you if you know more about the Night King and his army – where are they now?”

Giving a sigh, Bran nodded. “They are south of Eastwatch. They move very slowly. The Night King stays with his army, circling above.”

“Can you see any landmarks where they are? Where they are headed?”

“They are coming here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He knows where I am. He knows I am here, that I see him. He takes his time to gather more dead to his army as he goes.”

Jon cast a worried glance back to Arya and the others, then turned back to Bran. “We have brought many more fighters – and a great deal of dragonglass to fight them. How long do you think we have? We must be ready for them.”

Bran turned back towards the window, as if he could see the answer outside in the bleak winter sky. “Not long. They move steadily. A few weeks at most.” Then he sank back in his chair and his eyes glazed over again.

Jon released a breath, obviously relieved that there would be time enough for Daenerys’ army to reach Winterfell and prepare for the great battle to come. 

Turning towards Daenerys with an apologetic look, Jon said, “I think I’ll stay for a while to see if Bran awakes again. I’m sure my sisters will be happy to show you more of Winterfell, or see you to your room if you wish.” 

The queen looked at Jon quizzically, but then seemed all too happy to nod her assent. As she and Sansa turned to leave, Arya shot Jon a reassuring look. Whatever news Sam had for him, Arya would support her brother.

 

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written very quickly in the days preceding the Season 8 premiere. While I’d been pondering it and formulating it mentally for some months, it only coalesced enough to put down on paper very recently. Reading a bit of a potential spoiler from an interview with Sophie Turner in which it seemed that Sansa and Dany would be at odds (not surprising considering how the writers have treated Sansa and Jon, and Sansa and Arya in the past), I decided to go ahead and write my version of the return of Jon with what I supposed would be a more sympathetic Sansa. All sorts of little snippets of possibilities cropped up while I was writing, so what started out as about 4 or 5 pages, has quadrupled in size. So I’m doing it in multiple chapters. We’ll see what else I’m inspired to do after the show airs.
> 
> While I really should edit and polish this some more, I am posting it now without a beta so it can be up before season 8 premieres. Thanks for your patience and interest. Feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Information regarding Samwell Tarly’s family was taken from the sources below. I pondered whether Sam would even know about the fate of his father and brother (there are people online who think he wouldn’t know. There seems to be consensus that Jon certainly didn’t know, and that Dany would have no reason to know that those men were connected with a friend of Jon’s). I decided that it was reasonable that Sam would have kept in touch with his mother and sister after he’d visited them; after all, they were happy to see him, even if his father wasn’t.
> 
> [Roseroad](https://gameofthrones.fandom.com/wiki/Roseroad), [Battle of the Goldroad](https://gameofthrones.fandom.com/wiki/Battle_of_the_Goldroad) (Linked from the Roseroad article), [Lord of Horn Hill](https://gameofthrones.fandom.com/wiki/Lord_of_Horn_Hill), [House Tarly](https://gameofthrones.fandom.com/wiki/House_Tarly), [The Burning of the Tarlys](https://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/147655-the-burning-of-the-tarlys-discussion/) (Discusses whether it was right for Daenerys to burn the Tarlys; while some posters thought it was extreme and unnecessary, others thought it was the right thing for her to do, pointing out that at least she’d given the Tarlys a choice).
> 
> Also, I have been assuming that Jon would know that Sam was at Winterfell. Surely in all the months that Jon was at Dragonstone, Sansa would have mentioned in a raven that Sam and Gilly had arrived there. 
> 
> And of course, I also assumed that as soon as Bran had heard the news about the Wall, he would have told his sisters or Sam and they would have had a raven sent to Jon, and to the Manderlys at White Harbor.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sansa learns something secret about the queen, Jon must decide how he will impart the news he's just had.

~~

 

Outside in the hallway, Sansa turned to Queen Daenerys. “Your Grace, shall I show you to your room so you may rest and refresh yourself before supper?”

“Thank you, my lady, I would welcome that.” The queen seemed completely sincere in her gratitude. 

Arya begged off to go to the training yard, and the queen nodded her assent. Arya was gone in a moment, the sound of her footfalls on the staircase echoing up the stairwell.

Sansa turned to the queen. “My sister is a skilled fighter in her own right.”

The queen’s eyes gleamed for a moment. “A fighting woman, that's a refreshing thought.”

“You must see her spar when Lady Brienne returns – you will find it a treat.”

The queen nodded, but her face remained serious, pensive. Sansa’s stomach tightened again at the possibility that Daenerys had been offended by Jon’s asking to be left alone.

“Your Grace, I know you must be greatly worried, but Jon will learn what is needed to plan for the battle.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Sam is very level-headed – he often makes sense out of what Bran sees. Bran grows more distant the more time he spends in meditation. He improves when he is fully conscious.”

“No doubt.”

The women fell silent as they continued down to the second level, where Sansa exited the stairwell and led the queen to the master’s chamber. “Here are your rooms, Your Grace. I hope you will find them comfortable.”

“Thank you,” the queen replied tersely, entering the room. She glanced about the room, taking in the furnishings. “Where is the privy?”

“Oh, just here.” Sansa walked over to the door to the little hallway leading to the privy. She was startled with Daenerys suddenly rushed past her and disappeared into the smaller room. The sound of retching echoed in the narrow hallway. Sansa was appalled. Had the wine – or the bread – made her ill? But they had all had wine from the same decanter, and bread from the same loaf, and no one else had had ill effects. Yet the queen might think hers had been tampered with.

Some minutes went by, but the queen did not emerge. Sansa grew worried and moved closer to the privy door. “Your Grace, are you quite well?”

A few moments passed, then the queen said quietly, “I will be fine. A momentary indisposition.”

“As you say, Your Grace.” Yet Sansa was concerned. She had thought the woman pale, but supposed it was her natural complexion. And yet she’d seemed strained as they’d left Bran. “I hope the wine didn’t disagree with you.”

Daenerys came out of the privy. She’d found the linens and washbowl there, and was dabbing her face with a damp cloth. “No.” She glanced at Sansa briefly, then said, reassuringly, “Do not trouble yourself, I was feeling this way before I partook of the bread and wine. It will pass soon.” She said this knowingly, as if she’d experienced it often.

“Will it?” Sansa had a sudden suspicion and decided to act on impulse. “Ah, Your Grace, if you should happen to wish to consult with our maester, he is quite discreet.” The queen gave her a startled look, and Sansa hastened to add, “As am I,” before looking down, now shocked at her own rashness.

There was a long silence, and Sansa began to think that the queen was not going to respond. Perhaps she had angered her. 

But finally the queen sighed and said, “Yes, I believe that would be wise. If you are sure he will be discreet.”

“I would stake my life on it. Indeed, I have done so in the past.”

Daenerys’ eyebrows rose in surprise at Sansa’s vehemence, but only said, “Very well, then. Please send for him.”

“I will summon him at once.” Sansa rose and went to the door feeling more confident about this new alliance. If what she suspected was true, the Stark and Targaryen bond would be sealed.

 

~~

 

Later, after supper, Sansa lay beside Arya, trying to sleep. The supper had been successful. Jon had spoken strongly and sincerely about his trust in his new alliance. The queen had also spoken, calmly and rationally, yet with a terse economy of words, and no display of her earlier illness. The northern lords had been wary, but grudgingly accepted Jon’s decision to unite with Queen Daenerys. They could not argue with the value of having two fierce dragons on their side, nor the legions of men arriving soon to fill their ranks. 

After that the hall had been filled with talk of plans for fighting the Night King and his army, trying to keep them from coming further south. Sansa listened to the men debate about how to make best use of the shiploads of dragonglass – how quickly they could prepare all arrows and spears to be tipped with it. There was discussion of how useful the Dothraki would be in shooting fiery arrows at the enemy, but that they would need preparation for fighting in winter conditions. Sansa had already had every tanner, seamstress, and anyone who could wield a needle, including herself, making warm clothes for them and the Unsullied.

Jon had reminded them that there must be teams of men ready to burn the dead before the enemy could get close enough to raise them. That the target should be the Whitewalkers – especially the Night King, as he and they controlled the wights. They discussed, with careful deference to the queen, that the Night King was likely to be mounted on Viserion, so they would have to figure out how best to target him. With the planning came a rising hope and confidence that Sansa knew they could not have had without Daenerys Targaryen there. She should have been able to sleep easier.

But there had been a reticence in Jon all evening. He spoke fiercely and convincingly to the men, but he’d not spoken to her or Arya – nor the queen, for that matter – aside from basic courtesies, since he’d come back from speaking to Sam and Bran. He’d gone out to the yard immediately afterwards and not returned to the keep until it was time for supper. And after supper he’d disappeared once again. Whatever news he received must have disturbed him deeply. 

Sansa tried not to toss and turn, but couldn’t help it. 

Suddenly, Arya’s voice startled her. “So you can’t sleep either.”

“Sorry to disturb you.”

“You didn’t.” She sat up, gathering the covers around her. “I just keep thinking about how worried Jon seems about whatever Sam and Bran told him. I wish he would talk to us. And then there’s the queen and him. What do you make of that?”

“They are in love. I think that’s clear.”

Arya was silent for a moment. “That’s trouble, don’t you think?”

Sansa stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the flames flickering there. “No, I don’t think so. Jon is level-headed, and if the queen loves him, then she’ll not want to do anything that would harm him or his family.”

“But for him to bend the knee like that!” 

“I know. I do wish he’d discussed it with us. But he is the lord of Winterfell, so it ultimately falls to him to decide.”

There was a knock at the door. Arya leapt out of bed to go answer it, her dagger drawn. She opened the door slowly. Sansa could see Jon just beyond it.

“Arya, I’m glad to find you in your old room. Do you know where Sansa is? I need to speak to you both.”

“She’s here.” Arya opened the door wider. “Come in.”

Jon came in and there was a flash of white fur that darted from behind him. Ghost went to Sansa and gave a polite wag of his tail as he nosed her hand. She petted him appreciatively as she walked to the hearth. 

“Come on, Ghost, come sit down here with me.” Arya plopped herself down on the rug there, and Ghost joined her with a rambunctious bounce, licking her face and wagging his tail furiously. 

Jon shut the door and came over to the fire to join them, grinning down at Arya and Ghost. “Glad to see he’s been guarding you both. He’ll always stay beside any Stark.” He sat in the other chair and stared into the fire for a few moments. It was clear that he was troubled.

The girls waited.

Finally, Jon spoke. “You know that I talked to Sam and Bran.”

Sansa nodded. Arya said, “Yes.”

“I learned something about my mother…and father.”

“You already know about Father.” Arya looked up from the rug by the hearth where she had been scratching behind Ghost’s ears.

“I thought I did. But…” Jon took a deep breath, “…I am not the son of Eddard Stark.”

“What?” Arya stopped toying with the wolf and looked at Jon sharply. 

“I’m the son of Lyanna Stark.”

Sansa gasped. But she immediately began thinking about the ramifications of this news. 

Arya stared. “So you’re our…cousin…not our brother? But how do you know?”

“Bran saw this in a vision of the past – he’d been watching what happened to Father at the Tower of Joy. He saw the battle, and then saw Father climb the tower to find Aunt Lyanna in a blood-soaked bed, having just given birth – to me. Before she died, she made Father promise to keep me safe – not to tell anyone who I was.”

Arya cocked her head, “Why ever not? It would have been better for you if we’d known you were our cousin not our brother – and Mother wouldn’t have minded you being here.”

Sansa shook her head slowly, the rest of the story slowly dawning on her. “He couldn’t – because of who Jon’s father was. Robert Baratheon would never have let him live.”

“Who was his father?” Arya looked at her sister with confusion – she’d never had an interest in the history that old Maester Luwin had taught them about Westeros.

Meeting Jon’s eyes and reading the truth there, Sansa said solemnly, “He was Rhaegar Targaryen, the crown prince.”

Arya’s eyes widened, and she pondered this for a moment. “But Jon would still be a bastard, so what would it matter?” Arya glanced at her brother sheepishly, “Sorry – you know I never cared if you were a bastard or not.”

Jon smiled warmly at Arya. “I know. But it seems that I wasn’t actually a bastard.”

Sansa was taken aback. “Rhaegar and Aunt Lyanna were married?”

“So it seems. Bran also saw their wedding – and he said they seemed blissfully happy.”

Shaking her head, Sansa said softly, “So she wasn’t carried off…or raped – she went willingly. She must have loved him. But I can’t believe she’d agree to be his second wife, like the sister wives of earlier Targaryens.”

Jon shook his head slowly. “No. This is the part that Sam learned about in the Citadel. There is a record in a journal there that says that Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia Martell in order to marry Lyanna Stark.”

Sansa’s eyes went wide and she sat staring, dumbfounded. 

“What?” Arya was starting to feel embarrassed at her lack of knowledge.

“Arya, it means that Jon is the heir to throne of Westeros.”

Arya looked back and forth between her sister and brother. “You mean _he’s_ the king? Of all Westeros?”

Sansa nodded. “It means he has the best claim to the throne.”

Jon shook his head. “Not that I want it – I didn’t even choose to be King in the North.”

“But you should be – you’d a be a good and fair king.” Arya’s eyes were shining with pride in her brother.

“Thank you. But not everyone would feel that way.”

“Northerners would,” Arya said with a curt nod.

Sansa glanced down at her sister. “They could also dislike that Jon is part Targaryen – it might be better to them that he had some unknown Southron mother than that he had a Targaryen father. Especially when that father was the son of the mad king.”

“The one who killed Uncle Brandon and Grandfather?”

“Yes.”

Arya was somber. 

Jon sighed. “So you see my dilemma. At last I’ve learned the truth about who my mother was, and I wish I didn’t know. How will I ever tell Dany, err, Queen Daenerys?” Jon flushed at his slip, but hurried on. “She’s been raised to believe she was one of the few remaining Targaryens alive. That she is the heiress to the throne. She has been preparing all her life to rule – and now this? She will see me as a threat when it’s the last thing I want to be.” He straightened in his chair. “I’ll not stand in her way.” Then he sank back dejectedly. “Yet I must tell her.”

Arya spoke bluntly. “You don’t have to. It can be our secret. Sam and Bran won’t tell – they wouldn’t even tell us before you came.”

Jon shook his head. “I hate to keep anything from her – or the people here who put their faith in me. They already doubt my wisdom in bringing her here. As I know you both do.” He glanced back and forth between his sisters, stopping when he saw the question in Sansa’s eyes. “I supposed you have seen how I feel about her.”

Sansa nodded. “And that hasn’t changed now, what with this news?”

Arya piped up, “Why should that change anything?”

“Arya, they are related.”

“You mean like cousins?”

“Arya, she’s his _aunt_. She is the sister of Rhaegar Targaryen, so that makes Jon her nephew.”

“Oh. That’s weird.” Arya stared at Jon. “I liked it better when you were just my half-brother.”

“I did too.”

“Then just keep it to yourself. No one needs to know.”

Jon shook his head. “It just doesn’t feel right to keep it from her. Or from the lords of the Northern Houses.”

“But they might decide not to follow you if you tell them. You didn’t see how Lord Glover and Lord Royce tried to put Sansa in your place when you were gone.”

“Did they?” Jon turned to Sansa. “You didn’t say.”

Sansa dipped her head. “There was no need. I told them that you were their king and that I supported you.”

“I wanted to slit their throats,” Arya said fiercely.

“I’m glad you didn’t – we need them. But what made Royce stay? You’re safe here at Winterfell, so the Vale owes nothing to the North.” Jon glanced back and forth between them.

“Bran’s visions convinced them that all Westeros needed to fight against the Night King.” Arya was matter-of-fact. “We don’t want to alienate them now by telling them that you’re also a Targaryen.”

Jon stared at Arya for a few long moments, clearly weighing what she had said. 

Arya stared back at him, as if willing him to accept her advice. Then she turned to Sansa. “You’re very quiet. You agree with me, don’t you? He shouldn’t tell anyone, not even her. _Especially_ not her.”

Sansa looked down at her hands. Arya wasn’t going to like her opinion.

“Sansa?” Arya’s voice was adamant. 

Still looking down, Sansa said slowly, “He should tell her. I think…I think she will take it well.” She looked up at Jon. “Go and tell her.”

“What? I can’t believe _you_ want him to tell her – you’ve been even more worried about her coming here than I have!” Arya got to her feet, startling Ghost. He gave a low growl.

“Ghost, quiet.” Jon’s voice was tense. He waited for Sansa to go on. 

“Arya, if we can’t trust Jon, then we can’t trust anyone. He’s our kin – whether he’s our brother or cousin, it doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t do anything that would bring us harm.”

“I know that. But she might.”

“He brought her because her dragons and her armies give us a better chance against the army of the dead. If he trusts her, and feels that he must tell her, then we should trust as well.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Let’s just say that I have a feeling about her.” Sansa stopped herself from revealing what she suspected about Daenerys. “She cares for Jon and for his well-being, so she won’t want anything to ruin that.”

“But she might think that he will want to take the throne.”

“That’s why he shouldn’t tell anyone else. Just her. The fact of his being honest with her, and yet keeping the secret of his birth from the others will show that he is truly the same man he was before he heard the news.”

Jon stared at Sansa, as if he might object.

“Jon, you can always tell the Northern houses _after_ the war with the dead. If the news should disrupt the alliance we’ve built, it will harm everyone here – everyone in Westeros.”

Arya looked at her sullenly. “That’s why he shouldn’t tell her either.”

Jon looked back and forth between them. Finally, he nodded at Sansa. “I think you’re right. Daenerys must know, but the Northern houses can wait.” He rose from his chair.

Arya rose as well. “Jon, take Ghost with you. In case she gets angry, he will protect you.”

“She won’t try to harm me. And if she should call her dragons, Ghost will be of no use.”

“Please. Just in case.”

“As you say. Perhaps he can break the ice with her as he did with you a bit ago.”

~~

 

Jon and Ghost padded to Dany’s door. Jon was feeling very much like he did that first night that they had lain together. Nervous, hopeful, yet unsure. Longing for her, and dreading her rejection all at the same time.

Knocking lightly, thinking that if she did not wake easily he would wait until closer to morning, he stood waiting and had nearly turned to leave when the door creaked open. 

Dany’s pale face appeared from behind the door, and like that night, she stepped back to admit him.

Jon walked silently over to the fireplace, Ghost close on his heels. The wolf continued to the hearth and sank gracefully down to the ground near the fire, and Jon turned to face Dany, who had closed the door and walked towards him. 

“This must be Ghost. He’s beautiful.”

“Yes.” Jon watched as Dany walked over to the direwolf and offered him her hand. Ghost raised his head and sniffed at it, then ducked his head slightly to allow her to pet him.

She was so intensely beautiful in her white robe, that Jon could easily have forgotten why he was here. But she must have sensed that he wasn’t here with amorous intent, for she stopped petting Ghost, and went over to one of the chairs near the fire. Carefully she perched herself at the edge of one. And waited.

Jon remained standing, trying to think of just the right words to use to tell her. Finally, he settled on the same ones he’d used with his sisters.

“I have learned some news…about my past. Bran and Samwell Tarly, my brother from the Night's Watch, told me something I can scarcely believe.”

Daenerys nodded, waiting.

Jon took a deep breath. “They told me that I am the son of Lyanna Stark and…Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Dany’s eyes grew dark, and for a moment, Jon thought she was angry or that she assumed he was lying. But she said only, “And Bran saw this in a vision?”

“Yes. He saw them marry, and he saw my mother after my birth. She begged my father to protect me from Robert Baratheon. That’s why he lied about my parentage. Sam saw a document in Old Town showing that Rhaegar had annulled his marriage to Elia Martell.”

The queen sat silently in her chair, her eyes pensive. “So you are the heir to the Iron Throne.”

Jon shook his head. “I don’t want the throne – I don’t want anyone else to know this.”

“But you’ve told me? I would think you’d prefer to keep it secret.”

“I couldn’t. I don’t want to keep anything from you. You have come here in good faith when you didn’t have to. It would feel a betrayal not to tell you the truth.”

Dany gave him a tremulous smile. “You feel that strongly for me?”

“Yes.” His eyes beseeched hers. “Am I wrong to think that the feeling is mutual?”

Her smile broadened. “No, you are not wrong.”

“And this news doesn’t change how you feel for me?”

“No. Should it?”

He shook his head dubiously. “I don’t know. I’m still in shock to learn of it.”

“But it doesn’t change your feelings towards me? As you’ve learned that we are of the same Targaryen blood?”

“No. Well, I can’t…fathom it yet. I knew you before this news, so the news seems to change nothing.”

“Good. Because I have a secret of my own to share.”

He came to her and knelt at her feet. “What is it?”

“I am with child. Your child.”

Jon was shocked. He’d not considered that this could happen. “I thought you said you couldn’t have a child.”

“I thought so too. I must have had bad advice, as you once suggested. Or something has changed. Maybe we were fated to be together.” She smiled warmly at him. “What do you think? Should we _be_ together?”

A warm feeling flooded Jon’s veins. She wanted to be with him, and she was carrying his child. His child. He had never thought he would welcome such a thing, but to hear this on the heels of thinking that he could be alienating her forever made his feelings soar. 

He took her hands in his, bent his head, and kissed them. “Yes. We should. And this makes me glad of the news I’ve had – because I can ask you to marry me. Your child will not be a bastard.”

Daenerys raised her hands to his face, drawing him closer to her. “He will not. He – or she – will be the heir to the throne of Westeros. We will rule together.” And she kissed Jon tenderly.

As Jon took her in his arms, he wondered whether the future could possibly be so bright as it seemed right now. For just this moment he would allow himself to forget the battles to come, and trust in what he saw before him.

 

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~
> 
>    
> This chapter was written very quickly in the lead up to the premiere of Season 8. No beta, and little editing. Sorry for any typos. Also, this whole story had started as just a couple of short scenes for one chapter, but now is heading toward a third chapter. Thanks for reading – and for your patience with my musings.
> 
> Update 6-2-19: After having watched all of Season 8, especially the part where Dany begs Jon not to tell his sisters, I find it interesting that it was such a major plot point that Dany was so adamant about Jon not telling anyone else. For some reason, when I was writing this, it seemed reasonable that Dany would be willing to share rule with Jon, although in the show, I see that she is written such that she would not consider doing so. But it does leave the question of how she'd intended to manage things with Jon if their relationship had not become strained. Did she intend to marry him? If so, would she have accepted advice from him as she did during Season 7? Still, I suppose that would have been advice, not co-rule. Anyway, in my version, they would rule together.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~


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